


Private Investigations

by KB9VCN



Category: Guy Noir - Fandom, ああっ女神さまっ | Ah! Megami-sama! | Oh My Goddess!
Genre: Gen, Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-10
Updated: 2006-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KB9VCN/pseuds/KB9VCN
Summary: Published 10-Jan-2006; humor; about 2400 words.
For the 31_days "private investigations" prompt.
See also "Private Investigations" by dIRE sTRAITS.
This takes place before Skuld appeared.
This contains mild adult humor.  Reader discretion is advised.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Published 10-Jan-2006; humor; about 2400 words.
> 
> For the [**31_days**](http://31-days.livejournal.com/) "[private investigations](http://31-days.livejournal.com/386130.html)" prompt.
> 
> See also "Private Investigations" by dIRE sTRAITS.
> 
> This takes place before Skuld appeared.
> 
> This contains mild adult humor. Reader discretion is advised.

_It's a dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets. But on the 12th floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions..._

_Guy Noir, Private Eye._

—

It was a warm spring morning in Minnesota. After opening the office, kicking the radiator a few times to turn down the heat, and taking a three-hour morning coffee break, I was thinking about nothing in particular... because nothing was all I could afford for lunch. Suddenly, the phone rang.

I answered it. "Guy Noir here." Silence. "This is—"

"Ah, Mr. Noir? This is an international call, so please forgive a momentary delay between replies. Would you be free to work on a short-term full-time assignment? All expenses paid, including travel to a beautiful and exotic foreign land?"

My answer was obvious. That was a good thing, since I misjudged the time-lag before I began to answer. "Uh—"

"Very good. Mr. Noir, I work for Mishima Industries in Japan. You were recommended to me based on your successful recovery of foodstuffs stolen from our Minnesota facility a few years ago."

Oh yeah, I thought to myself. The Case Of The Looted Lutefisk.

Many people are surprised to learn that Japan imports lutefisk from Minnesota, as well as Norway. But lutefisk is a Japanese food, in some ways. It's only appreciated by one relatively isolated society on Earth, and it's only somewhat edible.

"We have frankly inappropriate orders, from a daughter of the Mishima family, for a private investigation. Your own rather inappropriate methods may be suitable for this case."

I let that one go, since it's bad for business to return insults before terms are settled— and because I misjudged the time-lag again. "Ah—"

"I'll e-mail details and reservations to you now. They'll cross the International Date Line, so you should receive them some time yesterday. Goodbye, Mr. Noir, and good luck."

Silence. "Guh—" CLICK!

—

And that was how I found myself in Japan. I was greeted at the airport by a fellow wearing a tailored suit that must have been even more expensive than my plane tickets.

"Are you the gentleman from Minnesota?" he asked.

"No," I said, "I'm from Minnesota, but I'm no gentleman."

The greeter didn't skip a beat. "This way, please, Mr. Noir." Either the culture gap had foiled my admittedly poor attempt at humor— or I was working with a tough crowd.

I was whisked away in a car that was only slightly larger than my suitcase. In less time than it takes to tell, I was escorted to a waiting room on the top floor of a building that makes me dizzy even to think about it. I stood at a window, and imagined that I could see the Acme building in Minnesota from there.

I caught the reflection of a door opening behind me, and I turned to meet Sayoko Mishima.

I hadn't met her before, but I knew what to expect. The other workers in the building had an unmistakable air of submissive resignation, as if they had been beaten about the head with a waffle iron. They were working for a woman who always got what she wanted— and who destroyed anybody in her way to get it.

"How do you do, Mr. Noir," she said, in careful English, while looking at me with a poorly-concealed air of disdain, like a spoiled kid from the city being introduced to her great-uncle farmer who saves rusty nails in mayonnaise jars. She gestured to an open chair— but it was more of an order than an invitation.

"Let me describe my problem," Sayoko said. "I'm a co-ed student at the Nekomi Institute of Technology, and the male students are ignoring me."

"A beautiful girl like you, ignored at a school full of socially awkward engineering students?" I asked. "That's... suspicious."

"I used to be 'campus queen', but then, this foreign-exchange student suddenly enrolled. And now, all those unfortunate men are hitting on HER. She's become the center of attention."

The problem was clear to me already. Girls like her never wanted unwanted attention until, uh, they wanted it. "And you've hired me to dig up the dirt on your rival," I said, "so that you can use it to run her off."

"Exactly, Mr. Noir. I always get what I want— and I destroy anybody in my way to get it."

Stalking a beautiful young woman is a shameful act, and a crime, in most parts of the world, and here I was, getting paid for it. Sometimes, it was good to be a gum-shoe. "Anything else I need to know?" I asked.

"Only a warning, Mr. Noir. This is no mere school-girl rivalry. I've tried to learn more about her myself, with the help of my cousin, and with all the resources of the Mishima empire. But we've been thwarted at every turn.

"She may seem sweet, and charming, and polite, and demure, and frankly, something of a drip. But she's sly, and cunning, and even more cruel than *I* am. I'm not quite sure she's human."

"Sounds like a tough nut to crack," I said. "What's her name?"

Sayoko lowered her voice. "They call her... Belldandy."

—

I barely know enough Japanese to get myself into trouble, and so I was working at a bit of a disadvantage. But I know people who know people, all over the world, and I called in some old favors. And then, I reviewed the results of Sayoko's own investigations.

It quickly became clear to me that, while Sayoko had a promising future as a ruthless international business woman (and possibly a professional dominatrix), she was a loss as a PI. And her cousin Aoshima (who had the morals and sincerity of a used car salesman) was completely useless. This 'Belldandy' girl might not be such a hard case, after all.

I paid a visit to the Nekomi Tech campus, posing as a professor. Many of the students knew some English, and all of them knew both Sayoko and Belldandy. I soon learned that, while Sayoko was widely loved but feared, Belldandy was widely loved and LOVED. The only person who didn't love Belldandy was a Doctor Ozawa... but he seemed to have recently had a minor nervous breakdown.

I realized that either this Belldandy was the con artist of the century, or else I was pinch-hitting for the losing team.

While I was there, I checked in with the Nekomi Tech Motor Club, where Belldandy often hung out with her boyfriend. They weren't there, but I met the rest of the club. Never in my life have I seen such a gang of misfits and ne'er-do-wells. If this was the future of automotive engineering in Japan, well, Detroit had nothing to fear.

All of my sources came back empty-handed. Most of them couldn't turn up ANYTHING, dirt or no. It was as if this Belldandy had fallen from the sky, like an angel... or a goddess.

It was time to investigate the matter directly.

—

I stood at the top of the steps near the entrance to a run-down but well-tended shrine at the edge of town. This is where the possibly-criminal master-mind lives?, I thought to myself. You couldn't find a set-up like this in a comic book.

And then, I met Sayoko's rival. And I instantly realized that she WAS an angel— a goddess of sweetness and light. Even my world-weary soul could feel the warmth of her simple presence.

It's no wonder that she drives Sayoko nuts, I thought to myself.

I pretended to be a lost and clueless tourist, and I asked her for directions in phrase-book Japanese.

"Please come in and have some tea," she said— in English. Not Sayoko's stiff textbook English, but in perfect native English. It was almost as if she could instantly understand anyone— in more ways than one.

She escorted me to a visiting front-room, waiting patiently while I fumbled with my tightly-laced shoes, and then gestured to a low Japanese table.

"Do you have a chair?" I asked hopefully. "The floor is a long way down for an American in his advanced middle age."

"I'll see what we can find," she said.

I looked around the room. It was tastefully decorated— and spotlessly clean. This girl was reportedly as penniless as an unemployed private detective, so she would have to have done all the work herself.

Another door opened, and a Japanese kid looked into the room. From his scrawny build and hang-dog look, I recognized him as Belldandy's live-in boyfriend. He dragged a small wooden chair up to the table for me. He mumbled something that I failed to understand, and left the room.

The kid had the smell of a loser. I know that smell well, and he fairly stank of it. And that loser was her boyfriend? Well, who was I to judge— I wasn't being paid to unravel that mystery.

Belldandy came back with two cups and a pot of something that was the color of used antifreeze. "Your tea, sir?" she said.

"No, I don't think it is," I said. "You wouldn't happen to have a martini with a soybean in it, would you?"

Belldandy frowned. "No... but my sister might have something like that..."

"Never mind. Uh, thank you." I took a sip. I'm sure it was excellent green tea, and perfectly brewed. But it tasted like the joe I used to get at four o'clock in the morning from the all-night convenience store in Piscacatawamaquoddymoggin.

Belldandy began to make conversation. "Are you enjoying your visit to Japan?"

"Yes," I said. "If I'm not mistaken, you're a 'stranger in a strange land', yourself."

Belldandy giggled, in a way that would have been sickeningly sweet from anyone else, but that seemed to suit her perfectly. "You could put it that way, I suppose," she said.

I decided to cut to the chase. "May I ask a personal question? Why, exactly, are you here? I mean, living in a run-down shrine at the edge of a small and unfashionable city in Japan?"

"I am here for my Keiichi," she said, without skipping a beat, "for as long as he needs me. We shall never be apart."

Something about the way she said it simply took my breath away. Or maybe it was the second sip of green tea. "Are you alright, sir?" she asked me.

Before I could answer, the temple was rocked by an explosion. "Please don't worry," Belldandy said. "That's only my sister Urd. I've asked her not to brew potions during the day, when visitors might call, but... oh, here she is now."

And then, I met Urd.

This dame was trouble. She had long platinum-blond hair that didn't know when to quit, and I wasn't about to tell it when. She had a figure to which a tape measure couldn't do justice. She had eyes the color of envy.

And she was wearing a dress that was so tight that she didn't have room to sweat. It might have been a problem, because she was HOT. Apparently, the explosion had set her on fire.

"Well, well," Urd said, also in perfectly natural English. "To what do we owe this honor, Mister?..."

"Weiler," I lied. "Carson Weiler. And please don't take this the wrong way..." I grabbed my cup of green tea, and threw it over her, putting out the fire that was singing her shoulders.

"Thank you, Mr. Weiler," Urd purred. "It was GOOD for ME. Do you mind if I smoke?"

Belldandy sighed. "Urd, it's rude to smoke in front of a guest. Please change into some clothes that aren't charred."

"Oh, don't mind me." I stood up from my chair. "I'd better be on my way, anyway."

Belldandy raised a hand in protest. "Oh... but I haven't given you the directions that you asked of me."

"Actually," I said, "you've already given me all the information that I need."

—

"Well?" Sayoko asked impatiently. "What's Belldandy's secret?"

"There's no secret," I said. "You asked me to learn the truth about Belldandy, and I've learned it. But I think you already know the truth, yourself.

"I'm sorry, kid, but she's out of your league. If you want my advice— just let it go. Or transfer to another school. Buy another school, if you must. Belldandy has a way about her that money just can't buy. That's all there is to it."

"But—" Sayoko said. "But— didn't you notice how she's able to read minds?"

"Women DO that," I said. "That's why I've never had luck with women, myself."

"Didn't you see how she enthralls every man she meets!?"

"Believe me," I said, "I did. And that sister of hers, as well. She makes me wish I was twenty years younger..."

Sayoko shot me a dirty look.

"Alright," I said, "THIRTY years younger. Look, kid. Take it from your Uncle Guy. Let. It. Go."

Sayoko hung her head. "Very well, Mr. Noir. I still don't trust her, and I still have my suspicions. But you're probably right."

"Atta girl," I said.

"And you've done what I asked of you," she said. "I may not like the answer you gave me, but you'll still be paid for your work."

"Glad to hear it."

"However, I will have my men rough you up a bit, on your way out of the building. Purely out of petty spite, of course."

"Of course," I said. "It's a standard part of my job."

—

It was good to be home. And it was good to hear the door bell of the Five Spot, as I opened the door.

Jimmy the barman greeted me. "Hey, Guy! I heard you had a case in Japan. How was your trip?"

I sat at the bar. "Oh, alright. It's a beautiful place, Jimmy. But it was a tough assignment. I was working on a personal case for a beautiful young woman, and she didn't like the answer that I gave her."

"Still breaking the girls' hearts, eh?" Jimmy said.

"Something like that, I suppose. No one likes to be told things they don't want to hear."

"Speaking of which, Guy... Since you just got paid for a case, how about making a payment on your tab?"

I groaned. "Oh, Jimmy! Haven't I asked you never to talk about my tab until after my third drink!..."

—

_It's a dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets. But a light shines on the 12th floor of the Acme Building..._

_Guy Noir, Private Eye._


End file.
